- Nadia Lubrano
Strolling over the grounds of an art museum I came across a garden, overgrown with wilted lettuce and intertwining tomato vines. Five specks of crimson amongst the dying vegetation caught my attention. Crouching down next to the plant, I gingerly picked the chillies, placing them into the palm of my trembling hand. I collapsed on the patch of grass beside me, dew immediately penetrating my jeans. I observed the vermillion skin of the smallest pepper, glistening in the sun, absorbing its heat. I raised the chilli toward the ominous grey sky and opened my mouth to take my first bite.